A Godly Visitor
by Cananatra
Summary: A Goa'uld finds himself teleported to the Galactica. Now all he has to do is convince them a new religion is required.
1. Chapter 1

He was falling, of that he was reasonably sure. The darkness around him made making certain of his circumstances slightly more difficult than would normally be the case but the lack of anything solid under him was indicative. Not to mention the wind rushing past him, or him rushing past it if you wanted to be more precise. He had been falling for, as near as he could figure, about two minutes now and unless he was falling from orbit of a very unusual planet he should have landed by now. Of course as that would likely have been fatal he was more than willing to grant that this particular fall was one of the better ones he'd experienced.

That didn't make it any less concerning of course. One moment he had a Tau'ri plasma beam melting the front of his last Ha'Tak into so much slag and the next a big white flash and he was falling. Having his hair whip about his face was getting terribly tiring so he did rather wish this unusual experience would end soon enough. The sound his finely tailored gold embroidered robes where making was starting to get irritating too. The sleeves sounded like flags in a hurricane and the last time he'd experienced that he'd had his Jaffa vaporise the flag pole and decreed flags banned, under pain of horrific pain.

Before Arawn, minor Goa'uld and former ruler of six small worlds had a chance to become further irritated at this non-lethal fall a second bright flash of light briefly blinded him. As his vision cleared he could see a dark grey metallic roof rushing away from him, giving him just enough time to realise that this second fall was not going to end painlessly before he landed on his back with a decidedly unprofessional string of Goa'uld curses escaping his lips.

Of course the question now arose where was he? Having never experienced an Asgard teleportation beam before he was willing to entertain the possibility that the Tau'ri ship had beamed him off before his ship exploded. The drab interior certainly looked like something the Tau'ri would build. Putting that aside though he still had everything he had been wearing before the teleport which meant he might actually stand a chance of taking over the ship himself and what a trick that would be.

Springing to his feet in a move most self respecting Gou'uld would never be seen imitating he expected to see several Tau'ri guards pointing their ugly guns at him. Instead he found himself in the centre of a rather large bay filled with what looked like death gliders which were missing their wings. Dozens of humans dressed in the ugliest shade of orange, or maybe it was brown stood staring at him with looks of shock. Not being an expert in Tau'ri fashion he couldn't be certain but he did think they tended towards blue or green, not outhouse orange.

The tableau before him was shattered when one of the humans slammed his hand onto a big red button and began shouting into something on the wall. Almost instantly alarms began to sound and the rest of the poorly dressed slave race scuttled into hiding. For some reason that Arawn could not fathom, any human civilisation that figured out how to make electricity work invariably designed their alarms around big red buttons. The flashing light that came on seemed to be optional, depending on where you happened to be. Of course knowing full well what would soon be coming he fiddled briefly with his hand device and activated his personal shield. None of that showy golden glow some of the System Lords set their shield to, he actually liked seeing what was happening without a rosy gold glow. Of course considering the decor of this place the golden glow might be preferable.

A moment later six humans wearing black and carrying what looked like Tau'ri weapons stormed out of a nearby door. Most of the other humans were gone but the one who had set off the alarm remained with a rather affronted expression on his face. The six soldiers spread out as they advanced.

"Well then, I trust you wanted me for something?" Arawn spoke in English. Hardly any of the Tau'ri spoke a decent language so he'd just have to make do. His deep Goa'uld voice sounding even more unusual in this cavernous place. The six men stopped and exchanged glances before one of them answered. Arawn had no idea what he said, it certainly wasn't English.

Clearly despite the fact these humans shared similarities with the Tau'ri they were somewhat different. A fact which truly gladdened his heart because his chances of survival just went up. Shaking his head he tried again in Goa'uld, to much the same result. The humans continued to make pointless untranslatable demands and wave their weapons about. If there was something you could expect from humans the galaxy over it was that they would wave their weapons about at the slightest opportunity. Sighing in frustration and not a little bit of anger at the sheer primitiveness of these humans his eyes glowed with an inner light.

An instant later two of the humans opened fire. Definitely similar to Tau'ri weapons and just like Tau'ri weapons the bullets slammed into the personal shield with a flash of gold and accomplished exactly nothing. With an ever so slight display of surprise Arawn pulled a Zat'nik'tel from his belt and shot both of the soldiers once. The blue lightning arcing over their bodies before they collapsed unconscious. He was willing to be somewhat lenient with these primitives, clearly they didn't have a clue what they were up against which meant they were all potential subjects. The other four reacted with admirable swiftness, opening fire and ducking into cover. At first Arawn tried to shoot them but honestly his aim wasn't all that spectacular. What kind of God really needs to go shooting regularly? So after a few failed attempts he simply walked up to whatever they were using for cover, letting the bullets bounce uselessly from his shield and shot them at point blank. Always useful to make an unkillable first impression when dealing with primitives.

Looking around he spotted the human which had sounded the alarm standing in the same spot and walked over to him. The poor man was frozen in place his eyes staring as Arawn approached. As he drew near the spell seemed to break and the man started to shout into the panel beside him. Clearly speaking to his superiors and letting them know their warriors achieved precisely nothing. What surprised Arawn though was that he was actually catching a few words here and there. It wasn't a language he had heard often and the pronunciation was abysmal but shockingly as more spilled from the humans mouth he quickly realised it was understandable.

Tucking his weapon back into his belt Arawn reached out and pulled the primitive away from the panel. Briefly ignoring the shouts of protest and calls for information before pinning the orange clad man to the wall, his toes only barely in contact with the ground. The man struggled to break free while Arawn dredged his mind for the words he was looking for but a normal human really had little chance of overpowering a Goa'uld. Finally when he was ready Arawn spoke.

"This language, do you understand it?" The question seemed to take the human by surprise causing him to frown and stop struggling. Arawn had to repeat the question twice before he got an answer.

"I understand you. What's wrong Toaster, get some wires crossed on your way here?"

Arawn had no idea what a toaster was. Unless he really meant some device used to toast bread and the Goa'uld was fairly certain he hadn't hit the human on the head all that hard. It was clearly meant as some kind of insult, but it was so unusual he couldn't find it in himself to be insulted. Besides, he had a use for this one and pulling off his head would make it much more difficult. With a small internal shrug he let the man down and released him. "I'm not interested in your talk of toasting. Trot on over to your primitive little toy there and tell your God I wish to speak with him."

"I'm sorry, we don't have a temple on this ship so I doubt the Gods will be down any time soon to answer your prayers. Would you like to talk to the commander?"

Arawn's eyes flared in irritation. Why was it that primitives always had glib replies when facing their deaths? With a steadying breath and masterful self control he nodded once. Perhaps later he'd decorate a wall of this hanger with the humans blood.

The orange clad man moved back over to the panel and with several suspicious glanced over his shoulder spoke into it. "Ops it's the chief. The glow-y eyed Toaster would like to speak with our Gods, or if they're unavailable to the Commander."

The ridicule in his voice was hard to miss and once again Arawn had to resist smearing him all over the wall. At this range a pulse from his hand device would push him against the wall and pop him like a balloon. To take his mind off it he began to tug his hair back into so semblance of position. There was really only so much he could do without a mirror or comb but the long fall had really ruined the whole style and the slave which had put it up this morning was almost certainly dead. Plasma had a tenancy to result in death when observed at close distances. It was actually quite tragic. That slave had impressive skill with a hairbrush. Shaking himself back to the present he realised this chief had finished talking to whoever was in charge and was now looking at him.

"The commander has agreed to speak with you. You'll be lucky if he doesn't toss you out an airlock for killing the marines though." Arawn was about to run with the usual threats, bloodshed, God routine but realised the whole merciful one might work for him this time. He'd only shot the primitives once after all.

"They're not dead," he spoke, his voice echoing in a very disconcerting manner. "Merely rendered unconscious. They should recover soon."

"Oh, well there's marines waiting outside that bulkhead for you. They'll escort you to the commander." With his piece said the chief rushed over to the unconscious men. Whether to help them or just to see if they lived mattered little to Arawn.

Turning to the indicated door Arawn went to step through only to find it stubbornly closed. It clearly lacked the ability to open automatically which just went to show human ships hardly deserved the name in Arawn's opinion. A quick glance to either side of the door likewise revealed no buttons to open it and so with a disappointed sigh his gaze fell on the large round wheel in the centre of the door. These primitives actually required the door to be opened manually. Reaching out he spun the wheel with ease and pulled the door open to be greeted with a virtual phalanx of firearms. It was honestly astonishing they managed to pack that many people into such a small hallway and had them all point their guns at him.

"Before you get all blustery, no I'm not handing over anything, don't even ask. You're just here to lead the way, though if it takes all sixteen of you to find your way around this ship I do pity you." Not waiting for a reply Arawn stepped through the hatch, his shield flaring slightly as it pushed the nearest soldiers back. Every Goa'uld had heard the story of Apophis getting a knife through the hand and made the necessary adjustments to their personal shields. Personally Arawn would have loved to see Apophis's face when that happened, the arrogant youngster deserved it.


	2. Chapter 2

AN:

ISKANDR: I tried to put in he dropped the shield before grabbing the chief but simply couldn't fit it in without ruining the flow so just left it out. That kind of Goa'uld tech is all mind controlled anyway so it isn't like he had to manually turn it off. As for the shield size issue, we've seen Goa'uld walking through forests without it getting caught on every bump and trig so I imagine its programming is sufficient to adjust for local terrain.

****** 

Ops was eerily silent for a number of seconds after chief Tyrol's voice had finished sounding from the speakers. No doubt many thoughts flashed through the heads of everyone present starting in many cases with the word Cylon and often ending with kill. However before anyone else could speak a harsh voice cut the silence. The voice was weary and yet full of hatred and issued from a older balding man who stood beside the plotting table.

"You don't seriously intend to meet with some fracked up Cylon with a hard on for meeting our Gods do you?" He paused for what he hoped would be immediate agreement and when it wasn't forthcoming continued harshly. "It's another one of their sick ploys to cause trouble in the fleet. Assassination, sabotage or maybe just keep track of us so their base ships can nuke us. We should toss the damn toaster out the nearest airlock and be done with it." Before he could really build up steam the man before him raised a hand to forestall him.

"Saul, think for a minute. If this thing really is a Cylon it means they have found a way to send a single person through a pin point jump into our hanger from who knows how far away. What's to stop them from jumping a nuke onto any ship in the fleet? Hell, why send a skin job in the first place when they could just kill us all before we even knew what was happening?" He shook his head angrily when his second in command opened his mouth to reply and continued on. "Then we have our marine's shots being intercepted by golden light and getting knocked out by blue lightning. Does that really sound like a Cylon to you?"

"I still think it's too dangerous to have the military commander of our fleet meet with some thing which is almost certainly some cards shy of a full deck. Even if it does have some unusual abilities." Saul was quick to reply. Even if he couldn't get the intruder instantly killed he could at least mitigate the damage. "At least keep it locked up Bill until we figure it out."

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The interior corridors of the ship were just as boring as the hanger had been, if not more so. At least the hanger had some craft to look over and some soldiers to shoot. These corridors had none of that, unless he started shooting soldiers and honestly that seemed unproductive at this point in time. Arawn really had little true idea where they were leading him, though the ship seemed rather large considering how long they had been walking. Most likely to some sort of holding cell, even the Tau'ri seldom trusted potential enemies anywhere important. Something that could not be said for the majority of Goa'uld he was loath to admit. He'd heard stories of them bringing prisoners into the Pel'tak and that never ended well.

He couldn't amuse himself on the journey by shooting anything, though he did like how random crewmembers dove through hatches as he approached. He could however amuse himself in one moderately childish manner which was to stop suddenly to view something they passed. This served to have the guards following him march straight into his force field when it unexpectedly stopped moving. After the second time, when he had a look at their mess hall the trailing guards were much more careful and managed to avoid walking face first into his shield. It was a small pleasure, and one he carefully kept from showing on his face but he could clearly see the resignment to powerlessness as it appeared on his escorts face. Mind games were such fun games to play when you were the one with the best pieces.

Despite his occasional stops to sight see he still arrived at his prison cell in a remarkably short period of time. The bars splitting the room in two were a serious expression of the art of ironmongery. Extreme overkill for holding your run of the mill prisoner which did raise some worrisome thoughts for the Goa'uld. What could they have encountered to require such strong bars? The cell door locking behind him was equally heavily constructed and the locking mechanism itself looked like you could take a hammer to it all day and not get anywhere. Of course, it would do little to stop him if he really wanted to get out, he still had all his technology after all but it made the primitives relax so he might actually get a chance to meet someone important. The quicker that happened the quicker he could gain control and expand his rule.

It didn't take long for the hatch to open, or at least he didn't think it took long. In all honesty he had been daydreaming somewhat after the cell proved itself to be as boring as every other cell he'd seen, worse than some. Not a torturers tool in sight. As the hatch in the wall was pulled open by one of the many guards left in the room two older men walked in. Working on the assumption that having doors opened for you and being old usually meant you were important, that or addle brained, Arawn turned to fully face the two men. It wasn't long before one of them spoke, the taller one with less hair.

"Well Toaster, don't just stand there. What do you want and how did you get on the ship?" The question was spat out with a fair amount of aggression. He obviously felt he was in a position of power, though judging by the shiny bits on his uniform perhaps not top of the pile. He didn't use the possessive when talking about the ship and the other old man had more shiny bits. This was a game Arawn had played himself in the past. Let the first prime bluster while getting a measure of your foe.

"Did you miss breakfast?" Arawn spoke, his deep echoing voice tinged with amusement. "All this talk of toast you primitives go on about. You'd swear your Gods have given some command about it." Here he paused for a second. He'd meant it as just another comment to get under the old man's skin but it was entirely possible their God had some law on toast. He'd outlawed flags after all and some Goa'uld could only see sanity with a high power zoom function. It would be much easier to just talk to their God.

His reply seemed to really upset the balding one. "Stop the games skin-job. I want to know how you got onto this ship and if any more will follow. Of course if you're too fried to understand any of this I'd be happy to get a priest of Ares over here to run you through!" It seemed like the speech would have gone on longer as his voice was beginning to reach impressive levels before the other old man placed his hand in a calming gesture on the firsts shoulder. Arawn had little attention for this as he was trying very hard to stop a laugh from bubbling forth. The old fool really had no idea how much he'd given away.

"Talk of toast aside, you mentioned Ares. As in God of War, hangs around with Zeus? That Ares?" Wary looks preceded nods of affirmation and this time Arawn couldn't stop himself, the mirth was evident in his voice as he continued. "You do know he's a thousand years dead don't you? Zeus picked a fight with Thor. Sent Ares out at the head of his armies. Thor won. Zeus blamed it all on Ares and since a smoking crater can't really defend itself Thor bought it and backed off." The looks on the faces of the slaves was priceless. Some clearly wanted him dead for blasphemy while other just looked bemused. "Seriously though, how long has it been since one of your God's actually showed up? I can't imagine any suggesting this type of Decor for a ship. Let alone the primitiveness of the technology. Even my worshippers know how to make automated doors on starships."

He had to pause here for some time. All the primitives on the other side of the bars seemed to be having some problem with his statements. One of the soldiers looked like his jaw was about to drop off while anothers eyes widened. The tall balding and blustery officer was doing an avid impression of a fish as if he simply couldn't decide on what line to take next. The older one was much more composed with his eyes narrowed slightly, clearly forcing himself to think quickly. Of course Arawn knew how this game was played and he waited calmly for the Commander to enter the conversation. Thankfully he didn't have to wait all that long.

"We haven't seen any Gods in thousands of years. There is plenty of information in the sacred scroll but no physical visits." At this Arawn could hardly hold in the glee. He was really in with a shot here. If Zeus had not visited them in so long he'd clearly forgotten they even existed and if that was the case he should be able to slot himself in nicely. "I'm having some problems with what you implied though. Both that you know more about our Gods than we do and that Ares is long dead. Not to mention that you seem to be suggesting you are yourself a God with worshippers who build you ships. Though why a God is in need of starships, irrespective of how they are decorated leaves me at a loss."

This last piece seemed to jolt the other officer back to life and following his previous example he laid right in again. "Just like I said Bill, this skin-job is out of its fracking mind. Maybe whatever they did to get it here fried its brain but it's clearly no God no matter what fancy tricks it might have." Arawn was almost tempted to end him right there as a show of force and just install himself through fear as he had done so often in the past. Unfortunately he had said to himself he'd take the soft approach and it was something of a challenge at this point. Any being no matter how old is going to get bored doing the same routine over and over again and Goa'uld were no different. Challenges spiced things up. So tall ugly and bald would live, for now.

"Well I'd be more than happy to answer your questions." Arawn began as he walked towards the cell door causing the others in the room to watch him closely. "I admit my knowledge of your pantheon is by no means up to date. I haven't had much occasion to talk to Zeus and our areas of responsibility hardly ever overlap." Surprisingly enough that was true. Zeus controlled space a good third of the galaxy away from Arawn's previous holdings which now sat in Tau'ri hands. Even then he was never powerful enough to take Zeus on in a war. Of course mixing in information which came out as so blatantly sincere always helped hide the lies. "That said, my information is much more current than yours and Ares fight with Thor was most certainly news that made its way around the Gods."

His stroll had taken him to the door and with a thought he activated his hand device, sending out a weak pulse perfectly timed to a twist of his wrist. The door rattled and the lock popped open with an audible clunk. The remaining force from his hand device caused the cell door to gently swing open. Looks of shock briefly abounded and guards reached for their weapons before remembering how pointless that was. Arawn mentally smiled once more, that trick was one of his favourites. He'd learned it from a slave who caused enough trouble escaping from prison cells that he was dragged before his God with claims of sorcery. In truth it was a clever little trick the thief called bouncing the lock. The rattle caused the pins to jump and if timed right the tumbler could be turned to open the lock. It was even more impressive when done with an invisible pulse of force and seemed uncannily effective at opening mechanical locks once you had the knack of it.

"And yes, if it wasn't obvious I am a God. My name is Arawn, God of the Underworld, Terror and Revenge. I also help out with War whenever Morrigan gets busy, can't expect her to do it all alone and there is a good bit of overlap. Most people she deals with I have to deal with very soon after and being close by for the handover is always convenient." He'd fully cleared the cell now and he could swear one of the soldiers sent to guard him was praying frantically to himself under his breath. Even the blustering bald one was edging fearfully backwards. No matter what these primitives profess it almost always comes to pass that a show of force coupled with supreme confidence and calm words had them subconsciously giving credit to claims of Godhood. "As to why I had ships, well it's fairly obvious. Starships are impressive and quite amusing to fly. Gods do tend to have temples build for similar reasons. You don't really think your prayers can only be heard inside an impressive columned building do you? We have them built to look good."

"You know I never really believed in Gods." The commander spoke with a slight tautness to his voice that hadn't been there when he started. Arawn mentally celebrated over the phrasing, past tense. The commander probably hadn't even realised the importance but it was proof a seed had been planted. "You understand we cant -" Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a new set of alarms blaring to life. With one final look both officers bolted from the room. Clearly this alarm meant something important.

"That was somewhat rude." Arawn said with mock anger causing the two guards to exchange worried looks. They really didn't want to tangle with him after what they had seen and the stories that had filtered back about the few that had shot at him. At the same time their commanders had left in a rush without giving them any orders which was the perfect position for Arawn to take advantage. "Well then, lead on you two. Alarms generally mean something interesting and dangerous is going on. Take me to this bricks command centre." The two guards shared a long look before obviously deciding they had no orders to lock him up, for which they were grateful, and plenty of reason to honour the request. Nodding politely they led the way.

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It didn't take long to reach the command bridge. Obviously the cells he'd been led to were the ones for important prisoners. Ones the Commanders didn't want to walk far to question. The command bridge looked as boring and drab as the rest of the ship but with a lot more franticly rushing people. Dim lighting? Check. Lots of screens? Check. Workstations, boxes and large panes of glass with odd symbols on it? Check, check and check again. Had he shown up here he'd have opened fire immediately sure in the knowledge that he was on a Tau'ri ship. Humans were so predictable in design choices. On the upside he could view several screens with what he assumed was local space readouts from where he stood leaning his hip against a console. It did seem to be flustering the rather good looking female working at it, but that was all part of the game. It wasn't long before his presence was noticed by the commander though he quickly dismissed Arawn after a polite nod to indicate he was only watching. The second was less sanguine.

"Friends of yours?" The spite and distrust was clear. Though if Arawn for feeling fair he'd admit he should be distrustful. After all he was a parasite hijacking a human host pretending to be a god. In this particular instant though he'd shoot himself in the head before admitting anything of the sort aloud. He looked at the rapidly updating sensor readout before replying.

"Ah yes, the Angry Red Dots, one of my most trustworthy group of minions."


	3. Chapter 3

That little piece of levity didn't go over too well with the distrustful officer. Clearly Arawn was insulting him but since his commander wasn't making an issue of it he really had little he could do. The developing battle saved him from continuing the conversation he was obviously losing and with a final hate filled glare he turned back to his displays. 

Arawn was rather ambivalent regarding the entire exchange. The officer was clearly dead set against him and had been since they had first met. Equally clearly however his opinion had a limited amount of weight in the decision making process, as such he could be ignored for now. With that little detail dealt with Arawn turned his attention back to the sensor displays. He wasn't familiar with the style but as usual his knowledge of human convention served him well. The screen was some form of pseudo-three dimensional display. Clearly they lacked holograms for true three dimensional displays and their limited computers seemed to struggle with what they had. He was forced to admit it might just be convention though as they seemed to display the information in the end. 

At the centre of the display a large number of blue dots seemed to hide behind the central symbol which clearly represented the ship he was currently on. The deployment suggested these ships were non-military. Either that or the commander was an idiot. He'd go with non-military with the benefit of the doubt for now. That would make this ship an escort for a convoy. The red symbols denoting the enemy ships looked to be right at the edge of the sensors however far that actually was and as he watched they spawned multiple smaller signatures. Fighters judging by how they moved in formation which would mean those wingless deathgliders would be launching soon. Almost as soon as that thought passed through his head more blue signals appeared and the woman beside him spoke. 

"Ready Vipers launched commander. Forming up to engage." Which neatly answered one of his other questions. Viper, a good name for a fighter, far better than the Tau'ri imagination less number scheme. Not a patch on Goa'uld names mind you. Any fighter with Death in its name was clearly superior. Judging the woman he was near actually had an important job to do he decided to use his guard to answer his questions. He wasn't immune to explosive death in space so letting the people who were doing the fighting get on with fighting seemed like a good idea. With a thought he dropped his shield and gestured the guard near with a curled finger. The guard hesitated for a moment before moving and there was the slightest check in his step as he cleared where the shield used to be which amused Arawn once again.

"Smart replies aside I don't recognise your written language so who exactly is it attacking you right now?" The guard clearly wasn't expecting this but he'd been one of those who witnessed several of Arawn's tricks and his certainty of reality was ever so slightly unsure. When he spoke he'd clearly just decided to roll with it and think later which Arawn briefly cheered at as it was another step to cement his place.

"It's the Cylons again." The hatred in his voice was clear which indicated this war was a bad one. "They've been after us since they nuked the colonies trying to kill the last of us. The fleets all that's left. Damn Machines" Arawn had to suppress a curse at that. It seemed his luck as only somewhat good. Yes he'd survived a plasma beam to his face and landed on a ship of religious believers but he'd managed to land on the losing side of a war of extermination. This would be a challenge. Then the last two words filtered through his thoughts, machines. Human killing machines. That had a terrifying familiarity to it. Keeping his voice calm he continued to question the guard.

"These Cylon machines. They aren't made of hundreds of self-replicating blocks that can self assemble into different machines are they?"

"Lords above no!" The guard replied quickly with a worried look. "If they could do that they'd have wiped us out in the first war. The toasters are big human shaped machines with glowing red eyes." he stopped to take a quick breath. "We beat them the first time but this time around they caught us by surprise, they had human-like infiltration models. We have one in the cells," the guard paused giving Arawn a look, "Not the ones you were in, different ones. About those block machines?" he ended in a hopeful tone. Seeing no reason to keep it to himself after the question he'd asked Arawn answered with feigned boredom.

"A machine race I encountered in the past. Little more than machine locust whose sole purpose was to make more of themselves and kill anything that got in their way. For some reason also felt the need to make human models. They were destroyed some time ago. Wanted to make sure you hadn't found some we missed." Once again sprinkling truth in with the lies. His description of replicators was spot on but his suggesting his pantheon destroyed them rather then got its collective posteriors handed to them was somewhat stretching the truth. Though you could argue Ba'al, arrogant flop that he was, was instrumental in their final defeat.

"Incoming!" The shout interrupted whatever the guard may have said and centuries of battle experience had him reaching for a hand hold. Luckily he had too as the impact was far greater than he'd been expecting. He'd been expecting a light tremor at such an early stage of the battle. What he'd got was a severe lurch and he could swear he saw a couple of structural beams flex slightly. "Nuke strike on dorsal hull, sections five through ten, armour holding!" His jaw dropped in disbelief as he held himself in place with one hand on the console beside him. Nukes were not unheard of as Tau'ri used them in large numbers. Even Goa'uld used them for such grand purposes as removing offending mountains to get at nice rich mineral deposits but these primitives seemed to be lacking in energy shields of any kind which meant tossing nukes around was a quick way to lose all your ships. Of course thinking about it that's exactly the sort of exchange a machine would find favourable. He'd have to figure out a way to design some shield systems these primitives could build. To hell with sitting in a ship without shields.

"Fleet jumped commander!" A man on the other side of the room shouted bringing him back to himself. A quick glance at the sensors showed the marks he'd assumed denoted non-military ships had disappeared, though most of the area was a mess of duelling fighters.

"Recall all Vipers and prep the ship to jump." The commander was admirably calm in the battle. His objective was obviously to escape with civilian ships which sat very well with Arawn. He could no doubt help them turn this war around when he got in power but he had to live that long and a nuclear exchange without shields was not conducive to a long life. They'd no doubt take a few more hits when the fighters fell back to land and reduced their coving fire but even with his limited information Arawn knew they couldn't afford to just leave the fighters to die. The fleet likely couldn't replace them. Knowing the next few minutes would be rough he redoubled his grip and set himself firmly. Sure enough another nuke managed to slip past the defences and impacted this ship, this time causing one of the large screens to shatter. It ended with a single growled command. "Jump"

It was the most disconcerting feeling Arawn had ever experienced. For a brief moment it felt as if his brain had left the rest of his body behind and had to wait for it to catch up. Whatever that method of FTL was it wasn't Hyperdrive. He could see the civilian fleet which suggested the jump was just that. Movement from one place to another instantly. He mentally rubbed his hands together, that kind of drive would be a massive tactical advantage. He couldn't wait to find out how it worked. Which was odd contrasting with their otherwise primitive technology. Further ruminations were cut off when the woman beside him spoke up.

"Deck Chief reports eight percent casualties in the Vipers and Starbuck took shrapnel on her approach. He said it doesn't look good. They're taking her to medical." For a moment Arawn was rather ambivalent but it dawned on him that if a specific pilots injury deserved a shout out to the commander then she must be important. That led neatly on to yet another way to gather support. He could feel the weight of his personal healing device on his hip. He learned that lesson six hundred years ago when touring a temple built to his glory. He'd caught his foot on a step and, somehow, managed to break his toe. Of course he couldn't show that their God was a clumsy idiot and so he had to act as if everything was normal for six hours before he got back to his ship and had it fixed. No way he'd be going through that again.

"Right, sounds like medical next." He met the guards eye as he pushed off the console. It was clearly an order to lead him there but before the guard could cave in once again an irritating voice sounded from behind him.

"And just why are you going to medical?" Once again the distrustful one was stepping in. This time though Arawn was more intent he not.

"God of the Underworld if you would recall." Arawn spoke as he looked over his shoulder.

"So what you go down there and Bless them? Take their souls?"

"I was considering more telling them to bugger off and live personally. It looks like you need pilots and what's the fun in being a God if you don't break the rules every now and again?" With that leaving everyone in the command centre staring he stepped out into the hall, the sound of his guards boots hurrying to catch up behind him.

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It wasn't far to the infirmary and his guiding guard wasn't wasting his time almost running down the corridor. No doubt he would have been running if Arawn had given any indication he would run. Obviously he had no intention of running as it did not befit a God but he did walk with a very brisk pace to show how serious he was. Delicate balance all things considered. On the one hand he had an image to uphold, while on the other he'd lose a lot of projected goodwill if he didn't save the named pilot, star-something-or-other. Luckily the ship wasn't all that large and they reached the medical bay in short order.

Clearly most of the people in the room were in for minor injuries, probably tossed about when the nukes hit, and didn't that still send a shiver of dread down his spine, nukes without shields. There wasn't many pilots either as he only saw a handful of flight suits, most of which stood staring with horrified concern at another looking rather the worse for wear with a couple of doctors beside her. Probably the star-whatever he heard about...

"Hang in there Starbuck, the Doc's will have that out of you soon," one of the other pilots standing closer to her than the others spoke.

Starbuck! That was the name, probably do well to remember it. It was definitely a shrapnel wound, if you could call the three foot shard of razor sharp metal impaling her abdomen shrapnel. Perhaps sword would be a better word.

Shaking off the momentary lapse in his train of thought Arawn strode forward shouldering past the pilots who stood nearby. The words of discontent this generated drawing the attention of the pilot standing by her side and causing him to spin in place. The change in stance brought Starbucks face into view and she really didn't look too good. Which meant all nice diplomacy to heal needed to get tossed out the metaphorical airlock.

"Who the Frack are..."

And speaking of tossing, Arawn's hand flashed forward, gripping the pilots collar before pulling and throwing him back the way he'd just come. Super human strength, the gift that just keeps on giving, so long as you remember you have it that is. The other pilots he'd shoved through should catch the one the threw. The sound of cursing followed by multiple bodies hitting the ground came from over his shoulder. Or they could all fall over, that was an option too.

"Now then, Starbuck isn't it?" Arawn began as he stood beside the bed, the sounds of his guards stopping the pilots from jumping on him. He did so love putting himself into situations where others actions reinforced his growing narrative in their own minds. The doctor was looking at the ruckus with confusion written plain on his face. Starbuck on the other hand seemed far more with it in comparison, which was rather impressive considering she was impaled currently.

"Who the Frack are you?"

"Arawn, God, in this specific case pertaining to you, of the underworld." Her eyes widened slightly before another question formed on her lips. Flashing his eyes he continued before she could get a word in. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm not here to ferry off your soul to the afterlife. You worship a different pantheon so it's not my job and damned if I'll do Hades job for him. I am however willing to prevent you dying. It seems to me that this fleet needs its fighter pilots so I'm willing to bend the rules slightly." Leaning forward he lowered his voice. "Really Hades is so lazy he probably won't even notice, but just to be safe you may want to consider converting afterwards." It didn't hurt Hades had been vaporised in an assassination some sixty years prior. He wasn't going to be spouting any contradictory stories.

Leaning back with a sly wink he pulled out his healing device. By now the pilot he had tossed was back by his side, clearly having caught some of the conversation and perhaps having been given a word or two by one of the guards. Either way he wasn't attacking so that was going well.

"If you're fracking with me I swear death won't stop me cracking open your skull."

Ignoring the threat being carried on the rapidly weakening voice he swept his eyes across the room, making sure his eyes flashed brightly to add weight to his following words. "Hold her down, " he met her eyes once more, "this is going to hurt a hell of a lot more coming out then it did going in." The doctor and the pilot pressed down on her shoulders while two more held her legs.

Holding his hand above her stomach he activated the healing device with a quick thought. The gem lit up and bathed her in light as it began knitting together damage. Step one completed, heal the surrounding impact damage caused when it struck her. That would stop most of the bleeding in areas away from the metal itself and hopefully stabilise her long enough to survive pulling out the shrapnel. Now for the painful part. He curled the fingers of his free hand around the wider end of the shard and began to slowly pull it out. That's when the screaming started. Technically he was slicing her to ribbons inside with a piece of jagged metal as he did this, so the screaming was to be expected. Though to give Starbuck her due, she held remarkably still. It took a certain kind of mental fortitude to not thrash in agony when experiencing this much pain.

The jagged end protruding from the other side of her abdomen disappeared from sight, the hole in her skin flowing back together in moments. He could see out of the corner of his eye shocked expressions on the faces of those around him as they stared. It wasn't over yet though, still a good foot of sharp metal to pull free but at least the pain was lessening at this point. Technically the further it came towards being out the less of her abdomen was being shredded with every seconds motion. Thankfully this meant less screaming. By the time the last piece of the shrapnel blade came free even Starbuck was able to watch, the pain having receded. The last wound stayed open for a few more seconds drawing some confused looks before a small handful of metal pieced fell out and the flesh closed.

"Always make sure you get all the shards," Arawn muttered to the others as he placed the shrapnel on the bed beside Starbuck before laying that hand on her stomach while he waved the healing device a few more times. Mostly showmanship at this point. With a final hum of satisfaction he switched off the healing device and stepped back. Starbucks hands began exploring her newly healed abdomen even though she still looked pale.

"Any other major injures, and by that I mean life threatening not oww my finger hurts." He was willing to do more miracles but honestly he was not going to set a precedent by healing minor injuries. Seeing no-one volunteering he tucked away his healing device and began to stride from the room. Just as he reached to door he spun around and looked back.

"Starbuck!" her head snapped towards him, mouth moving as if she was trying to find words, clearly having almost died and then having a miracle performed on her had thrown her mental balance way off. He levelled a finger at her "I expect at least one votive offering from you." he made sure to inject a good deal of playful mocking into his tone before walking out the door before she could reply.

Things were certainly coming together.


End file.
